Mind Games
by verisonwireless
Summary: Moving across the country to work for his estranged father, Percy is hesitant to settle himself down, though after a strange night in a diner, he begins to garner hope. But when a familiar face is assigned to work with him, their lives may be changed forever, whether it be for better or worse. Note: This is my first published story, will edit summary as I write.
1. Chapter 1: Girl

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson. He belongs to Rick Riordan. So yeah.

This story is obviously a work in progress, but I had the idea of the beginning one night and decided to write it. If you have any suggestions, please make them. Also, I don't think I'm very good at writing for either character, but I will be trying my best. Common AU where Percy is the son of a rich business figure and Annabeth is an aspiring architect. Will include most characters from the books, and will have the cannon pairings.

 **Girl**

I hadn't put too much thought into the idea of what exactly I had wanted to eat, but scanning the menu, I acknowledged how heavenly the selection seemed. The food ranged from Belgium waffles to fresh baked ham, though neither of those were my go-to. Finally, after roughly thirty seconds, I found my favorite meal.

"I'll have the chicken tenders with fries, please," I said politely. The waitress, who appeared to be in her late twenties, smiled sweetly and took my menu.

"It'll be done within the half-hour," she said before slipping away to another table. I sighed, aware that she had probably lied.

When I'd entered the diner, there hadn't been an empty seat. It took ten minutes to be seated, and another fifteen for the waitress to find me. Then, it was another fifteen minutes between ordering my drink and getting it.

I sipped on my coke consciously, a feeling of solitude plaguing my mind. Originally, I had planned to skip dinner. Sadly, my body had betrayed me, and that was how I ended up at the diner alone and bored out of my mind.

Time took forever to pass, so I decided to begin secretly observing others. Despite its creepiness, I had little else to do, as my phone had died roughly an hour ago.

Studying each face, I saw a mix of joy and discomfort from across the room, but most people appeared content with their situation. The staring was mostly harmless, at least until an old man made direct eye contact with me.

After lowering my head for a minute or so, I heard loud voices near the entrance. Turning around, I saw a waitress trying her best to calm a blonde girl.

The blonde looked around my age, with a Californian tan cascading across her skin. Her hair was curled like that of a princess, and her eyes twinkled in whimsical gray spheres.

"I'm begging you," she said, her voice strong despite her desperation. "I just need a quick bite. I won't be too long."

"We don't accept anyone after 10," the waitress said, her tone apathetic. "Even if we did, there are no seats available."

"Here are your tenders, sir," my waitress said, bringing my attention to my food. "Careful, the plate's still hot."

"Thank you," I said, sliding the plate closer to me. I turned back to the blonde at the entrance, and a feeling struck my gut.

"What if she shared my table?" I said to the waitress, her eyes also focused on the scene. That snapped her away, and she gave it a moment's hesitation. "I mean, it'll still only be one table to clean. Of course, I don't want to break your rules."

The waitress raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, nodding in confirmation. "That is, if she is willing to share a booth with a stranger."

The waitress smiled, then went to the arguing patron and worker. I saw her whisper something in her coworker's ear, and after she nodded slowly, the waitress gave the blonde my offer. Ten seconds later, I was no longer alone.

"Thank you," the blonde said, scooting into the other side. She held bags I hadn't seen her holding before, and she kept a hand on them protectively. "Do you mind if I work on some stuff?" she asked.

"No problem," I said. She pulled out several papers, most appearing to be blueprints of buildings. The structures looked familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"City hall," the girl answered my unarticulated question. "Just studying the schematics."

"Fun," I said, more sarcasm leaking out than I had anticipated.

"And what do you do in your free time?" she asked indignantly.

I pondered the question a moment. "Eat. Or swim. Mostly sleep, though."

"Exhilarating," the blonde retorted. I instinctively snorted, which in turn caused me to receive a strange look.

"Okay there, Porky?" she teased, amusement interlaced in her words.

"I prefer Charlotte," I answered.

She looked at me blankly, and after five seconds, she burst into laughter. "That's the spider, you uncultured swine."

"First off, I see what you did there," I said, referring to the pun. "Secondly, I don't remember the movie. Other than the pig being the main character."

"How would the pig make a web?" she questioned.

"Same way Spider-Man does," I argued.

"This conversation is becoming less and less intellectual with every word," the girl mumbled loud enough so I could hear.

"Well, that's what happens when you challenge an intellectual like myself," I commented, causing her to smile despite resuming her studying.

"And what would you like, ma'am?" the waitress said, appearing out of what seemed like thin air.

The girl contemplated for only a moment. "Chicken tenders please. With a coke."

The waitress paused whilst writing, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I shrugged.

"It'll be out as soon as possible," the waitress said, though the girl hardly paid her mind.

"Rather rude not to make eye contact," I said once the waitress was gone.

"I have to memorize this by 7 o'clock tomorrow morning," the girl said, retaining her bent neck. "I'm trying to make every second count."

I blew air of my nose, then decided to begin eating my dinner.

Almost like she was a clarion call, my eyes perpetually returned to the girl in front of me, despite my best efforts to look away. Her hair laid beautifully upon her shoulders, appearing to glimmer in the diner's dim lighting.

Halfway through my meal, a smaller, more feminine hand than my own reached across the table, grabbing a few fries from my plate.

"Thievery," I announced calmly, continuing to eat my tenders. "Punishable by death back in the day."

"So was claiming that the earth was round," she retorted, her eyes unmoving from the papers. "Tell me, what rumors have you been spreading?"

"You owe me at least three fries."

She reached across once more, grabbing a handful of fries.

"More than three," I corrected, speaking more to myself then her. "Certainly more."

I saw her crack a smile, and then for next few minutes, I ate in a comfortable silence. She continued her studying, every so often taking more of my fries. Eventually, I finished my chicken, but by that time my fries were gone.

"So, what're you doing here alone?" the girl asked, raising her head to look at me. I froze, my mind absorbed in her startling gray eyes.

"I should ask you the same thing," I replied quickly, trying to play off my moment's hesitation.

"I asked first," she said. "Rule is, you answer the question first. I'll answer after."

"Is that before of after the 'don't steal a stranger's fries' rule?" I retorted, causing her to give me a certain look.

"Fine, I'll answer," I conceded. "Me mum's a real working madonna, and me paps left me when I was a mere baby lad. Made the grand trip over the pond only a fortnight past, so I ain't got no mates nor a fancy hen to call me own." My fake Scottish accent was atrocious, yet the girl giggled.

"Some of that was honest, by the way," I explained, the girl's giggled slowing down. "Just thought it'd be fun to say in an accent."

The girl ran her hand through her hair, and my heart began beating faster. "Well, you certainly made it more entertaining to hear," she complimented. "Though you need to work on it a bit more."

"There's room for improvement," I acknowledged. "Anyways, your answer, if you will?"

She smirked at my formality. "Neither family nor friends wanted to go out at 10 to eat," she said. "Surprising, I know. Regardless, I was starving and needed somewhere peaceful to work."

"This is peaceful?" I said, referring to the multitude of voices coming from around us.

"Better than my house," she commented. "My little brothers never shut up, and my dad's not what you could call a disciplinary man. At least, not to them."

"Ah," was all I said.

"My dad and mom split," she explained, as if reading my mind. "Mom lives in New York as an architect."

"Following in her footsteps?" I inferred.

"Yeah, you could say that."

We looked at each other, comfortable under the other's gaze. We were stuck in our own bubble, immune to any awkwardness or verbal beckoning. That was, until the waitress arrived with her food.

"Your tenders and fries," the waitress said, breaking the mutual trance. "And a coke," she said, sliding the glass in front of the plate. "I'll be back with your check, sir, in just a few minutes."

I nodded my head in appreciation. Once the waitress turned around, I quickly reached across and grabbed a handful of the girl's fries.

"Ever head of third degree murder?" the girl asked as I chewed on a couple fries. "Because soon enough I may not have commitment issues."

"Just give me a moment to jot down my will," I said, chewing joyfully in the fries. "After that, you may do as you please. By the way, it took them 30 minutes for my order. Yours only took ten."

"It's called the intellectual hierarchy," the girl explained mockingly. "Smarter you are, the bigger priority."

"Explains why you couldn't get a seat," I said, going along with it. "They didn't want to disappoint you with lousy booths. Either go big or go home."

"Absolutely," the girl agreed, dipping a tender in ketchup. "Lucky for them, I'm merciful."

"May God forever be this generous."

"Calling me God?"

I looked at her, then shook my head. "Maybe a god, but not the God."

"I'll tell Jesus of the predicament."

"Yeah, get the golden boy in on it."

"Your bill, sir," the waitress interrupted, handing me a receipt. "Ma'am, if you don't want anything else, I will gladly bring yours. Take your time, though, we don't want to rush you."

The girl simply nodded, a tender halfway out of her mouth. I had trouble not bursting out in laughter, but once the waitress walked away, I forwent my reservations.

"That was precious," I said, clapping my hands gently as my eyes watered from amusement. "You should have seen it."

The girl glared at me, then I felt something hit my shin extremely hard.

I opened my mouth for a moment, bordering between yelling and speaking. Instead, I simply said "ow."

I pulled out a ten-dollar bill from my wallet, then a couple ones for tip.

"So, you're new around here?" the girl asked, splitting a tender in half to cool it faster.

"Yes ma'am," I replied. "I'm still in the process of learning where to get good food."

"Chicken tenders are of the most pristine quality," the girl commented. "Are you still in school?"

I shook my head. "I got an associate's back in New York a year ago, but I didn't have the money to go further. I'm here for a job."

"Here I was hoping to give you a tour of the local campus," she said. Her voice held something, but I couldn't pinpoint it.

Looking up at the clock on the wall, the hour hand read 11.

"You've only got eight hours to study before game day," I observed, referring to the time. "And I need my beauty sleep." I rose from my chair, stretching to rid myself of any stiffness.

"I didn't catch your name, by the way," the girl said, ceasing to eat and instead facing me with full attention.

"Percy," I said, holding my hand out. "Percy Jackson."

She took my hand. "I'm Annabeth Chase."

We shook hands, the trance from earlier seeming to overcome us once more. Then, the bells at the exit rang, and the trance broke.

Withdrawing our hands, I remained hesitant to leave. For some reason, something was keeping me still.

"Hope to see you around, Percy," Annabeth said, her lips forming a smirk.

"You too, Annabeth," I said, returning a smile.

With that, I turned away and began my way out. Before I opened the door, I looked back at my booth, the girl diligently studying her papers. I felt a feeling rise in my stomach, but I pushed it down with a sigh. The bells rang above, and I escaped into the night.


	2. Chapter 2: Getting Better

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson. Rick "P. Diddy" Riordan happens to be the blessed man.**

 **I only recently realized that a lot of my ideas for this story have to do with diners and restaurants, so I'm going to be attempting to change that soon enough. Anyway, enjoy I guess. If you have any recommendations, please give them. This is my first fanfiction, so I'm still new at trying to write for familiar characters.**

 **Getting Better**

Consisting of only three offices, the ninth floor was mostly unoccupied, disregarding the janitor services being stationed as a midpoint for the building. My own office, which included a spectacular view of the city below and a bowl of peanut m&ms, was the largest, which meant that if I didn't decorate it soon enough, I would never be able to focus.

With the distraction of emptiness, I had spent most of the day pondering ideas for the workspace. By the time my alarm for 5:00 went off, I had made several imaginary improvements to my space. Sadly, the noise dispersed my thoughts, and as I headed toward the elevator, my shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Stepping into the vacant cab, I clicked the button hastily, desperate to leave the godforsaken establishment that was the company. Of course, I only despised the place because of personal reasons. The building's interior was gorgeous, but to spite my father, I forced myself to hate this place.

My father had left my mother and I when I was only a year old. It was so early on that I had no memory of him, and when asked who my father was in kindergarten, I would answer with various celebrities. It wasn't until I hit twenty years old that I learned my father was a celebrity in his own right, and by that time. he was practically demanding me to join his company across the country.

Poseidon, my father, was a co-founder of the most successful aquatic company in the country. Ranging from piers to home pools, any form of construction involving water was usually under the company's domain. Money was never a problem for him, which seemed to be the subject at the root of our problems.

So, it was just my luck that when the elevator doors slid open, standing at the front desk on the first floor was the man of the hour.

"Percy," he said, catching sight of me immediately. He gave me a warm smile, his eyes lighting up as I walked near him. "I was just about to call. How was work?"

"The walls are marvelous," I said dryly.

Poseidon chuckled. "You'll get used to the office soon enough," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder and leading me to the exit. Several spectators gave jealous looks, unaware that I rather than a favorite worker, I was his son. "And the work will hopefully pick up soon enough."

"I'll keep both fingers and toes crossed," I commented.

"Would you like to come to dinner tonight?" he asked suddenly, ignoring my previous statement.

I gave him an odd look, confused as to the intentions of the request. I'd been in the city for more than two weeks, and yet this was the first time he seemed to acknowledge that I existed outside of the office.

His eyes gleamed hopefully, and a part of me wished I could accept. "I have plans," I said truthfully. "I'm meeting an old friend."

My dad was caught off guard, but he played it off smoothly. "Yes, of course," he said as we reached the doors. "Maybe some other night, then."

"Yeah, maybe," I remarked more slyly than anticipated. With only a glance, I could see his gaze lower in shame. Instantly, regret washed over me, but it was too late. I was out the door, calling a cab with a New York whistle.

"Food fight!" screamed an ecstatic child, throwing a piece of ice cream cake across the picnic table. It splattered against his friend, the icing becoming eye paint. Each kid around the table clamored for ammunition, and soon enough the war had broken out.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I asked. "Birthday parties at eight in the park."

"Disgraceful!" bleated Grover, his anger like that of a boiling pot. "Did you see that?"

"Plastic in paper bins?"

"Plastic in paper bins!"

I simply smiled, looking into the San Francisco night sky. The stars above appeared faded, often the lights in the sky coming from an airplane or helicopter. Most of the buildings were still illuminated, though most of the top floors were still under construction.

"All of this pollution makes me want to vomit," Grover commented as we passed a pile of crushed beers cans.

Grover had been my best friend since middle school, and ever since I'd known him, he'd been on an environmental kick. Of a smaller stature and weakened legs because of a childhood accident, his green thumb hardly helped him make friends. Yet for some odd reason, I was gravitated toward him the moment I met him.

"You're the one who wanted to live here," I retorted. "Coulda went to school on North Dakota. Hear they have mandatory cleanup year-round."

Three years had past since Grover had moved to California. At the time, I was crushed. Not only was I losing my best friend, but he'd be on the other side of the country. Despite the distance, though, we retained our closeness, and when I'd told him about my long-lost father predicament, he wanted me to stay with him until I found my feet. Fortunately, I had no need to impose, as my father had arranged a place for me to stay.

"The land beyond gods," Grover said dramatically. "Yeah, no thanks. I prefer the company of people rather than endless fields of cattle."

"Are you sure?" I said. "Cause I must say, you'd probably get along much better with old Betsy than Nancy Bobofit."

"Nancy was no human," replied Grover. "She's like if a group of satanists sacrificed an articulate duck to Satan, except the ritual disfigured the animal so terribly that the devil himself kicked it out of hell."

We stepped across the street, taking respite under a bus stop as Grover checked his phone. "They're already there," he said, reading a text. "How am I always late?"

"Was that rhetorical or genuine?"

"Kiss my ass."

I followed Grover for another couple blocks, maneuvering around the crowds of people walking the streets. Refusing to be any later than we already were, Grover resorted to jaywalking, something that I resigned myself to copy.

By the time we reached the restaurant, rain had begun pouring down upon us, leaving no choice but to enter the building soaking wet. Fortunately, the place didn't appear to be too prestigious, and the greeter simply shook her head about the weather.

"Name?" she asked.

"Half-blood," Grover answer. The waitress gathered two menus, then motioned for us to follow.

"My god," I whispered to him. "What kind of gang are you dragging me into?"

"What?"

"Crips or bloods?"

"Percy, what're you talking about?"

"I know Voldemort hated anyone who wasn't pureblooded, but I didn't know he made subgroups to eradicate half-bloods specifically."

"Shut up. It's an inside thing."

"Every cult starts as an inside thing. Then they all end up drinking the same Kool-Aid."

"It was the name of our summer camp," Grover explained. "Nothing abnormal."

Several comments came to mind, but I decided to simply follow the greeter in silence. Glancing over her shoulder, I attempted to get a view of what was to come.

"That's them," Grover said, pointing to a back corner in the room. There, a table for eight held four people, all of which were in deep conversation. I glanced over the four, though two had their backs to me.

Facing me were a boy and girl. The boy sat stoically, short blond hair and a button-up painting him a rather professional looking guy. With electric blue eyes contrasting against pale skin, he studied the room subconsciously, as his attention seemed to be fully occupied.

The girl beside him had darker skin, frizzy brown hair atop her head feigning carelessness. A faded orange t-shirt like the one Grover was wearing and torn blue jeans, her style fit her brilliantly. Admittedly, she was gorgeous, and her smile was intoxicating to the heart, even with the brief glance I was afforded before we reached the table.

"Here you are," the waitress said, handing us our menus. "Someone will be with you shortly."

The conversation at the table rattled on despite our arrival. Grover grinned in amusement, then knocked on the table.

Everyone turned toward us, allowing me to see the other two present. This time, I found two girls staring at me.

The first girl, with short, choppy jet-black hair, shared some characteristics with the blond. Unlike the boy, though, her blue eyes were piercing, threatening to those under her stare. She wore a spiked leather jacket with chains hanging from her belt. Black lipstick and dark eye shadow, she epitomized the standard of the modern-day goth.

The other girl had fiery red hair and intriguing green eyes, her tie-dyed shirt a kaleidoscope of colors mismatching with her faded ripped jeans. When she turned, a smile formed on her face as she looked me up and down.

"Grover," said the gothic girl, breaking a brief second of silence. "Are you going to introduce us to your friend?"

"Percy Jackson," Grover put simply, taking a seat beside the brunette girl. I sat across from him, beside the redhead. "These are my friends. The godsend over there is Jason, the emo's his sister Thalia, the lovely woman sitting beside me is Piper, and the redhead beside you is Rachael. None of them have last names."

"We're Graces," Jason said, pointing between himself and Thalia. "Piper's McClean and Rachael's Dare."

All eyes were on me, causing me to squirm in my seat. "Gotcha," I said quieter than intended. Rachael giggled, whilst Piper let out a soft laugh.

"Nice to finally meet the famous Percy Jackson," she said. "Grover's been telling your legends for years now."

"Not true," Grover defended under my suspicious glance. "You just come up in conversation every once and awhile."

"Once a dinner, twice a proper get together," Thalia expanded. "Nothing bad, though. Well, besides the one thing."

"Is it the thing I'm thinking it is?" I asked Grover. "Because I swear, the orphan jumped out in the middle of the street. I couldn't possible have stopped the car in time."

Jason laughed. "No, I think it was the one about you swan diving out of the Gateway Arch."

"He told me you blew up the Hollywood sign," Thalia said, feigning a look of betrayal at Grover.

"Only half-true," I said, holding my hands up. "I blew up the _old_ Hollywood sign. Not the current one."

"I have no idea what's going on," I heard Grover mumble to himself.

"I just got a text from Luke," Thalia said, ending the barrage of myths. "He said they just got here."

"More people to meet?" I inquired.

"Just two for now," Piper said. "Though several members of this group are M.I.A. tonight."

"Stands for marsupials inheriting aircrafts, or so I've been told," jested Rachael.

I chuckled softly, then caught sight of whom I presumed was Luke.

A tall, lean blond man with a scar stretching from above his left eyebrow and down to his lip looked our way, and I couldn't help but feel intimidated by his appearance. Startling blue eyes, I could tell by the way his eyes studied me that he was not expecting a newcomer.

I almost felt like leaving, when suddenly a familiar face appeared behind him, studying her surroundings without even glancing at the table as they reached it.

"Sorry we're late," Luke apologized, sincerity lacking from the statement. "Someone didn't feel like leaving the library."

The familiar face finally looked over, and as she went to reply, her eyes met mine. I raised an eyebrow, curious as to what she was going to say.

"Grover, you brought your friend," Annabeth Chase said innocently. Her eyes betrayed her ignorance, an amused glimmer flooding her pupils.

"Yeah, I didn't know we were expecting a probie tonight," Luke announced, walking over to the seat beside Grover. Before sitting, he stretched his hand out to me. "Name's Luke Castellan."

I took it, shaking it firmly. Instantly, I felt a tug of aggression, his hand squeezing mine harder than necessary. His gaze met mine, and I could sense his displeasure. He hadn't wanted me here, nor did he probably ever want me anywhere near.

Despite my attempts at playing his discomforting behavior off, I withdrew my hand slowly. Suddenly, a shadow walked past me.

"Annabeth Chase," the shadow said, taking the seat beside me. "I would shake your hand, but you might need to catch your breath."

Her comment didn't go over my head, and when I looked at the others, they were all staring with confusion. The handshake had been more obvious than I had thought.

"Nice to meet you, Annabeth," I said, turning back to her. "I'm Percy."

"The way Grover described you, I would've thought you'd be taller," Annabeth proclaimed, her eyes daring me on.

"At least I was mentioned," I whispered to her while feigning a yawn. I then responded louder. "From the stories I've heard from everyone else, height is the most humbling comment I've heard tonight."

I felt a familiar pain in my shin, but before I could retort, a waitress interrupted.

"What will it be for the newcomers?" the waitress asked.

"Enchiladas with onion rings and a coke," Grover spouted out, disregarding any form of order.

"Just a water, please," Luke said, a charming smile stretching across his lips. The waitress' cheeks reddened as she jotted down the orders.

"I'll have chicken tenders with fries and a coke, please," I said. The waitress had yet to begin writing down my order when Grover snorted loudly, though he wasn't the only amused one. Both Thalia and Piper were stifling laughter, and Rachael had begun giggling beside me.

"And you, ma'am?" the waitress asked Annabeth.

"The same as him, please," she said, a slight blush flooding her cheeks. I hid a smile as I wiped my mouth, but despite hiding my amusement, she still kicked my shin once more.

We passed over the menus, then sat back comfortably.

For the rest of the dinner, we swapped real stories. I learned that Piper was born a Hollywood angel, as she was the child of one of the most successful models and one of the most famous film directors. I also learned that she hated her background, as she'd never wanted to go down the path of fame. A tomboy at heart, she desired to shed the wings of her past and fling herself into a new world.

Jason was as much of a straight as possible. A football star in high school who gave it up to focus on a better education, his brain was as prominent as his appearance. He explained that, after he and Piper began dating three years ago, his priorities changed. So much so that he'd rekindled his relationship with his sister.

Thalia, as gothic as her appearance was, turned out to be more aggressive than depressing. Her quick wit and apathy towards other opinions didn't diminish her appealing character, and although I was sure we'd butt heads in the future, I looked forward to it.

Rachael, for all her giggling, was a spectacular artist. Intellectually gifted, she'd turned down several offers from prestigious ivy schools to instead attend a local art school. Her personality appeared to be off the wall, which made it easier to be myself around the group.

Luke remained quiet for the majority of the meal, occasionally making a comment that I would study several times over in my head. Something about him made me uncomfortable, and every word he said was calculated.

Annabeth, in all her feigned ignorance, stuck to making sly remarks and teasing comments. We constantly made references to our diner experience; so much so that at one point, we found ourselves laughing at each other whilst the others looked upon with confusion.

"Ready to go, Annie?" Luke asked, rising from his chair. By this time, dinner was over, and we were just about to disperse.

I glanced over at Annabeth, making fun of her with simply my eyes. She glared back threateningly, and I lowered my gaze in surrender.

"Yeah, all set," she said. "It was good seeing you guys. Percy, hopefully you'll hit that growth spurt soon."

I drooped my face dramatically, causing her to simply grin. They turned to the door, Luke offering no departing formality. Once they walked through the door, my eyes returned to the others at the table.

"We'd better get going too," Jason said, helping Piper from her chair. After doing so, he reached his hand out to me. "It was great meeting you, Percy. We'll see you around." I shook his hand respectfully, a hint of competition between the two of us sparking for just a moment. It faded quickly, though we both grinned in acknowledgment.

"Like he said, it was great meeting you," Piper said. For a moment, I had thought she was going to hold out a hand. Instead, she walked up and hugged me. "And please, feel welcome to any of our 'get togethers,'" she said, chuckling at the word.

As they left, Thalia and Rachael both rose, and in similar fashion, they said their goodbyes and departed, leaving Grover and I alone at the table.

"Ready to go, G-man?" I asked, imitating a ten-year old's voice as I used the old nickname I had given him years ago.

Grover nodded, and as we walked out, he turned to me in a familiar fashion. "You really fit in, y'know. From now on, you're an honorary member of Camp Half-Blood."

I laughed, though my heart swelled with joy. In many ways, I had just made life in San Francisco bearable. With friends outside of Grover, I felt willing to settle on the opposite side of the country. Life was finally looking up.

"Well, I sure as hell ain't no crip," I quipped. We walked out onto the street with the rain pouring down upon us, but I didn't care. Things were alright, and I felt more than just a glimmer of hope leading me forward.


	3. Chapter 3: Act Naturally

**Disclaimer: No one owns Percy Jackson other than Rick Riordan, including me.**

 **Act Naturally**

 _Annabeth POV_

The apartment reeked of forgotten dishes and ancient pizzas. When I entered, the aroma struck me like a bat, though what disturbed me more was that I had to push the objects behind the door to make room for myself to enter.

A tilted TV in the corner playing an episode of _Game of Thrones_ was accompanied by a lit candle by its side, the wick on it burning at a dangerous height.

"Thalia!" I screamed, stepping over strewn pants and shirts. The clothes acted as footprints to her room, though how she ignored her path of destruction, I would never understand. "You were supposed to be ready!"

"Yup!" a muffled voice replied. "Jus brushing my teeth!"

"I don't want to be late, Thals!" I screamed back in an effort to rush her. As I yelled, I began stepping toward her direction, and, in an uncommon display of ignorance, I stepped into a puddle of spilled coffee.

After cursing loudly for a minute, Thalia stepped out from her room, dressed in blue jeans and a cobalt blue top. Proper attire, just like I had begged her to wear.

"Serves you right for making me do this," she said, straightening her top. "A damn chauffeur isn't my job description." She dropped a few paper towels onto the puddle, then grabbed her keys and began walking to the door.

"You don't have a job," I pointed out. "And this place better be at cleaner when I move back in." Thalia grinned smugly, locking the door behind us.

"It'll be in tip top shape, Miss Chase," she retorted mockingly. "Shall we get to the tower, then? You have a job to apply for."

I rolled my eyes, then followed her to the car.

Two weeks prior, I had filled out an application for a part-time architectural position at the Atlantis building. Needing the experience, I figured I'd give it shot. I was in search for a salary, and I knew I needed to play to my strengths. That being said, when I received a call back asking me for an interview, I was more than a little surprised.

Of course, the building wasn't exactly walking distance, and without a vehicle, I relied on Thalia to provide for me, which was a rare occurrence.

"Remind me, does your mother know about this?" Thalia asked, starting the car. As she backed out, I let out a bitter laugh. My mother had a history with the company, and not one that would help me.

Athena Chase happened to be a world-renowned architect, despite her status as a freelancer. Her fame, which had caused her to work with only the best architects, led her to collaborate with Atlantis. The project was the only black spec on her spotless record. Caused by heated arguments with higher ups and disagreements with partners, the project ended up a failure. She blamed the company, specifically the founder, and whenever the company came into conversation, a rant would ensue.

"Not a clue," I answered. "Nor do I plan to tell her anytime soon. She'd disown me in a heartbeat."

"Two heartbeats," Thalia corrected as she pulled up to a stop sign. "Give her some credit."

"I have to pave my own path," I said. "Atlantis is extremely prestigious, and having it on a resume would be the equivalent of striking credential gold."

"And your name doesn't carry that?" Thalia pointed out.

"Chase isn't exactly unique," I argued. "And I'm not mentioning my mother in the interview."

The application had asked for my parents' information, but legally, I decided to use my stepmother.

"Alright, if you say so," Thalia said, changing stations on the radio. "Hey, what'd you think of last night?"

My mind skipped back to the dinner, and the memories replayed in my mind. "Tenders were slightly soggy," was all I said.

"I meant Grover's friend," Thalia specified, eyeing me peculiarly. "What do you make of him?"

"Decent guy, I suppose. He fit in well."

"Not with everyone," Thalia pointed out. "You saw Luke."

She had a point. Luke, a close friend for quite some time, had been the opposite of his usual self. Most of the time, he played the easygoing and relaxed leader-type to the group. Being the oldest, he was naturally the one we all looked up to. But the night prior, he appeared to have been a judgmental bystander.

Unlike most of the group, Thalia and I were aware of Luke's personal problems. Anger issues and psychological disorders had plagued him since childhood, but most of the time, he'd kept them at bay. But last night, his anger seemed to have taken over, and apparently, I wasn't the only worried one.

"Just uncomfortable," I defended, trying to rationalize the display. "He forgot Grover was bringing his friend to dinner."

"You certainly seemed shocked to see him." Thalia had a smile playing at her lips, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses as she kept her head forward.

I was taken aback, but only for a moment. "Meaning?"

"You knew he was coming to dinner," Thalia explained, "yet your eyes nearly popped out at the sight of him."

I shrugged my shoulders. "It slipped my mind at the time," I lied. I never could have anticipated that the man I met at the diner could have been Grover's best friend.

For some odd reason, I hadn't mentioned the diner experience to anyone. After the occurrence, I acknowledged how strange it seemed. However, it was the first time I had enjoyed a dinner in a long while, as I had spent most of my summer with my father's family. Somehow, a stranger had been warmer than my own blood, and my heart had clung to the experience.

"A lapse of memory?" Thalia questioned. "Annabeth Chase, you must think me an ignorant fool. I know you better than that. Was it his appearance? Because I must admit, he's a bit more attractive than I expected."

"You thought he'd be a hippy disfigurement," I argued. "A well-groomed horse would have been more attractive than your prediction."

"Fair point. Still, you haven't validated your reaction."

"Take a left," I said. "And I'll admit, he's different than I expected." I'd also thought Grover's friend would be a tree-hugger like himself, dressing flamboyantly and constantly mentioning nature. "But I bugged out because I thought I'd seen him somewhere before." I was telling the truth, but to a certain extent.

"He is familiar," Thalia agreed, to my surprise. "I can't put a finger on it, though. Maybe he's a private investigator."

"Investigating who?" I inquired.

"Leo Valdez," Thalia said with more than a hint of disgust.

"Then he failed miserably, cause Leo wasn't there."

"It's called reconnaissance."

"It's called your imagination."

She pulled into a parking spot labeled _Visitors._ Near the entrance, we both sat in a moment of silence as we watched bystanders walking in and out of the building.

"Impressive," I muttered.

"Snotty," Thalia mumbled, referring to the formal wear. "You don't need a suit and tie to design a building."

"They also deal in different projects," I argued.

"Well, get going," Thalia announced suddenly. "What time should I be back?"

"I'll call," I said, stepping out of the car. "Have fun roaming the town."

Closing the door behind, I walked up to the entrance, glancing back for only a moment to see Thalia driving away. Slightly nervous and completely alone, the only thing I could do now was face the future.

Once I stepped into the building, I could understand how the company earned its prestige. The lobby was brilliantly designed, utilizing natural lighting from the encompassing windows that made up most of the surrounding walls. Keeping with a classical style, marble columns and flooring contrasted against a front desk which brilliantly masqueraded obsidian. Several lounge chairs were strewn across the room, a TV displaying the company's products and history for every organized seating arrangement. At the center of it all was a marvelous, grandiose fountain spouting crystal-clear water into a pond below. The pond itself held exotic fish, the colors of each breathtakingly unique.

After staring at the fountain for an embarrassing length of time, I walked to the front desk, where a cheerful middle-aged woman stood at the ready.

"How may I help you, ma'am?" the receptionist inquired kindly. Her smile was warm, unlike nearly every other receptionist I'd ever dealt with.

"I have a meeting with Mr. Whitaker," I answered. "I'm Annabeth Chase."

The receptionist's eyes lit up. "Ah, just a moment please."

Despite having a phone within arm's reach, she walked away from the desk, taking a few steps to a wall phone. Far enough for it to be unintelligible, her words flowed from her mouth as her lips curled into a smile.

Setting the phone down, she returned to her position. "It appears Mr. Whitaker has taken a sick day, ma'am. If you do not mind, Mr. McCartney is willing to step in."

I nearly choked on thin air. "Mr. McCartney?" I asked. Poseidon McCartney was the CEO of the company, and had been one of the original founders.

"Yes, that would be his name," she said. "He didn't want you to think the company just forgets those with bad luck. If you are willing to meet with him, he is on floor 12, room 101. I highly doubt you'll miss it, though," she laughed, pointing toward the elevator.

I nodded in appreciation, words unable to leave my mouth. As I strode across the main lobby, I began to calm myself. Breathing evenly, I clicked the up button and awaited the cab.

 _Surely it isn't_ the _Mr. McCartney,_ a voice in my head said. _He wouldn't be bothered with a part-time job interview._

When the doors opened, it was surprisingly empty. Thanking the gods above, I clicked 12 and settled myself properly, regaining any crack in composure.

Even if it was him, he would never accept a star-struck college student. I had to collect myself and appear normal, which wouldn't be too difficult. My brain tended to overtake my emotions, no matter how stressful the situation.

The elevator door opened, revealing a small corridor. To the right, the hallway split into two, making it a puzzle. Luckily, within eyesight to the left was another receptionist desk. It stood before two relatively large doors which were encrusted with sparkling sapphire tridents.

I walked to the desk, my eyes still studying the doors. Seeing no one at the desk, I rang the bell which sat innocently atop a stack of papers.

Within seconds, a heavyset man walked around the corner, lifting the guard and standing opposite of me. "Annabeth Chase?" he inquired, picking up a clipboard and reading from it.

"Yes, sir," I answered plainly. The man had a ketchup stain on his tie, along with wrinkled dress pants and mismatched socks.

"He'll see you right away, Miss," he nodded, motioning towards the doors. "Go ahead and walk in."

"Thank," I muttered, sheepishly stepping away and walking to the doors. Standing in front of them, I felt minuscule, as if I was hardly a crumb on a loaf of bread.

Knocking firmly, my innate maturity took over, and I straightened my back to stand proud. After hearing a welcoming voice from the other side, I pushed the doors open widely, allowing me to see what they were concealing.

Put bluntly, the office wasn't grandiose. Instead, it appeared humbling. Adorned with two regular sized fish tanks holding nothing more than the common pet fish, the rest of the office held nothing more than a coffee table with five seats and a desk with a chair on each side.

Mr. McCartney sat on the other side of the desk, reading something off the computer screen. He was dressed in a white suit, a brilliant turquoise tie hanging from his neck. Glasses laid comfortably atop his head, his squinting eyes hinting that he stubbornly refused to use them.

When the squinting eyes turned to me, they opened enough for me to see a familiar set of sea-green eyes. "Miss Chase," he said. "Pleasure to meet you. Please, take a seat."

I did as told, sitting up straight with my hands laced across my lap. Setting them over my case, I awaited his word.

"You are applying for a part-time job, if I'm not mistaken," he said, his eyes squinting once more at the screen.

"Yes, sir," I confirmed, hoping my voice sounded strong.

"To earn proper experience as an understudy to a professional architect," he assumed, no longer reading from the screen. He was smiling warmly, and I began to grow suspicious. "And to begin your endeavor in the art of devising significant structures. I'll bet a salary is sought after, as well." The humor in his voice masked something, but I couldn't place my finger on it.

"I believe in my ability," I said confidently. "To sharpen it, I realize that I need to learn under a mentor. Not only that, but I need to design for the real world, not just a college course. Experience is needed, and a beginning is what I desire most. And yes, I do want a salary."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and momentarily rubbing his graying beard. I'd pressured him to be in his late forties, but hearing his coarse laughter, he would have to be older.

"Bold," he said, retaining a grin. "And accurate. Everyone needs a base to build their career upon, and this company happens to be very tempting to those building theirs both literally and figuratively. But tell me, why should I hire you?"

Before I was able to respond, he continued. "I mean, there are equally talented people out of college, offering me full time work at such low prices you would think it illegal. What makes you different?"

I evaluated the question, rolling it over in my mind and expanding it in every direction. The easy answer would be my mother, but I would rather take a bath in the fish tank two feet away from me than use that. No, I would answer with what I believed in.

"I offer you my brain and my determination," I offered. "I will never treat a project with anything less than the utmost importance, nor will I submit work that does not go beyond satisfactory standards. My time will be completely devoted to the job, and should I become distracted or less passionate, you'll be the first to know."

"So, you're not looking for long term?" he questioned.

I shook my head. "No, sir. If I feel that I am under-performing, I will resign from my post with gratefulness towards the opportunity you have given me."

His eyes widened, studying me carefully. "You're certainly honest," he said. I nodded. Honesty was something I prided myself upon. Very rarely did I lie, and when I did, it was for what I saw as necessary.

"You must forgive me, then," he continued, sitting up and resting his elbows on the table, his hands intertwined. "I must admit, I have committed that folly. Mr. Whitaker has taken only three sick days in sixteen years, and today was not one."

Confusion struck me, and by his facial expression, I must not have been able to hide it.

"See, I wanted to interview you for a specific reason," he announced. "I want to offer you a slightly different job."

Rising from his chair, he grabbed a cylinder of fish food from his bookcase, walking to the nearest fish tank and sprinkling a cap full into the water.

"Understand that should you decline this proposition, you will still receive your desired job," he said, shaking the container. "Consider this a different path down the same road, but with a higher salary."

"I have the job," I said suddenly. I cursed myself immediately, embarrassed by my lack of restraint.

"Oh yes, your application was undeniably brilliant. No matter how long you plan to stay with this company, it would be a fool's act to turn you down." He turns back to me, looking into my eyes. "Your salary, should you decline my offer and take the desired position, will be $21 an hour."

"You haven't made your proposition, sir," I pointed out.

He chuckled once more, then went to feed the other tank. "I've recently given my son a position here at the company that, although I still deem it fitting, requires him to be polished quite a bit."

"I thought Triton had been a higher up for years," I said.

"Yes, he is," Mr. McCartney confirmed. "The son I am talking about is child born out of wedlock. A bastard, if you will."

He shook the container as he explained. "Understand that roughly 25 years ago, my wife and I discreetly separated. For five years, we simply interacted on a public level, such as at dinners or charity events. During those five years, I fell for another woman, and such was that a son was born."

He rubbed his temples for a moment, his emotions getting the better of him. "Only recently have I learned of his existence. Immediately, I demanded his presence by my side. Problem is, he hasn't had much experience in a world like mine."

"And what exactly are you asking of me?" I inquired.

He smiled brightly. "To put it poetically, I wish for you to grow with him," he explained. "Everyone around him is older and more experienced, making it impossible for him to relate to them. You, on the other hand, are his age, and with your basic understanding of the job, you can not only learn by application, but also teach him along the way."

"I was looking for experience, sir," I said. "How will I receive this if I am, excuse any rudeness, babysitting your son."

Poseidon laughed once more. "You are very blunt, Miss Chase, and I appreciate that. I assure you, my son will not take up all of your time; rather, he'll allow you to fully understand your work in a way that is only gained through the teaching process." He tilted his head, then continued.

"Of course, I forgot to mention that you will still be an understudy of a professional. Your work would be the same as the other job, only a metaphorical cherry on top."

"What's the bonus?" I asked.

"Thirty dollars an hour and a bigger office," he answered. The money certainly appeared to be a significant incentive, and I would love the extra space.

"You know my hours, correct?" I said.

Mr. McCartney nodded. "Afternoons on Tuesday's and Thursday's, full days on Monday and Friday. Suitable, I think."

Mentally, I was studying a pros and cons list, my mind unable to decide. The money appeared convincing, but the extra responsibility was slightly worrying. And if I should come to blows with the boss' son, I doubted that my job would be secure.

Then again, Poseidon had made a fair point. Teaching requires a better, if not perfect, understanding of the material. In classes, I thrived on teaching because of this reason. Between the two, I knew that when I left the company, the latter would prove to be more beneficial.

"Might I see a picture of your son," I asked. Having a special gift in reading people, seeing a picture of the man would allow me to at least have an initial impression.

Mr. McCartney walked behind his desk, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a frame. "I only recently acquired it, so I haven't quite put it out," he explained.

He handed the picture over, and when I saw who it was, my heart dropped.

"His name's Percy Jackson," Poseidon described as I stared. "He's a New York native, which should justify the Yankees t-shirt."

Before my mind could decide, my voice spoke. "I'll take up your offer, sir."

Internally, I smacked myself. But it was too late to reconsider. Mr. McCartney rose from his chair, a smile plastered dangerously wide across his face.

"Thank you, Miss Chase," he said, shaking my hand. "My assistant will email you all the necessary paperwork, so need not worry about that today. When are you willing to start?"

By that time, I myself had risen, and both of us were a foot away from the door. "Next week is perfect for me," I said.

"Then next week it is," he said. Opening the door, I realized that compared to the doors, he wasn't nearly as small. "Until then, Miss Chase. If you have any questions, please feel free to stop by."

I shook his hand once more, his unrelenting smiling infecting me. When I stepped into the empty elevator once more, a grin remained on my face. Dialing my phone, I heard a familiar courtesy answer from Thalia.

"How'd it go?" she asked first. I thought of how to respond, then simmered my thoughts.

"I'll tell you in the car," I said, the floor numbers decreasing at a perpetual rate. "And trust me, I have a _lot_ to tell."


	4. Chapter 4: She Said She Said

**Disclaimer: Percy Jackson is owned by Rick Riordan, so I don't own the rights to it. Enjoy!**

 _Percy POV_

The late summer air hung thickly upon the park, a heavy aura dampening all of those choosing to do more than sit. Clothes stuck to skin, sweat dripping down the faces of everyone on the basketball court. With the sun shining down, the heat sweltered even worse. So how I found myself in a 3-on-3 street-ball match was beyond my comprehension.

"Dunk it, for Christ sake!" yelled Will to Jason. So-called Superman had tried a layup instead of reaching up a couple extra inches, resulting in the ball going the opposite way.

Grover dribbled down the court, the ball hardly staying on course. Attempting a three-pointer, it hardly even swiped the net. Luckily, I was directly below, and rebounding it, I tossed it in the hoop gently.

"Fifteen seconds!" yelled Thalia from my left.

To explain the teams, they were Grover, Thalia, and I versus Jason, Will, and Beckendorf. Will, a dirty blond who was a year younger than most of us, and Beckendorf, a fresh graduate from college, were both fairly decent at the game.

Jason was sprinting down the court, an edge in his eyes that held confidence and determination. He certainly wanted to win; but then, so did I.

When he stopped to take his shot, I came up from behind and knocked the ball away and into Grover's hands. In a panic, he tossed it back to me.

"Alley-oop, Grace!" I yelled, throwing it across the court and into the hands of Thalia. Stepping at the three-point line, the buzzer beater ball swished through the hoop, nothing but net.

"And that's how you play b-ball, brick head," Thalia taunted, jogging over to her water bottle.

"You stuck me with a doctor and mechanic," Jason retorted after taking a swig of his own drink. "Meanwhile, you had Percy imitating Larry Bird!"

"I also had a person who couldn't guard a paraplegic," Thalia argued.

"Blah-ha-hah!" Grover bleated indignantly. "That's not only offensive to me, but paraplegics everywhere."

"Percy, you're pretty damn good," Beckendorf spoke up. "Play often?"

I shrugged. "Used to play in my free time. Also helped a friend prepare for basketball tryouts one summer."

"Did they make it?" Will asked curiously.

"No, Frank failed miserably," I laughed nostalgically. "He tried again the year after I'd graduated, but to the same result."

A phone buzzed, and Jason picked it up and answered, walking away from the crowd. We awaited his return, as we were planning on going again with different teams.

"It was Piper," he said as he hung up the phone. "Says that Silena's at the apartment." Beckendorf's ears perked up, followed by a wide smile.

"What're we doing here, then?" he said, gathering his things. Jason rolled his eyes, grabbing his things as well.

"Well, game's over," Thalia announced.

"What about 2-on-2?" Will offered.

Thalia gave a fake laugh. "You mean 1-on-1. You and Grover don't really count as whole numbers."

"She has a point," Grover agreed.

Will shook his head with amusement. "I guess I'll see you all around, then." We all said goodbye, and Will went off to wherever he was needed.

"Perce, what time is it?" Grover asked.

"3:30," I answered, reading my watch. "We should probably get going, if we want to be on time."

"On time for what?" inquired Thalia. She rested her hands on her hips, arching an eyebrow to the side.

"We're meeting an old friend," Grover explained. "Don't see him very often, since he lives in Vegas. Apparently, he's in town on a family business trip."

"What's his name?" Thalia asked.

Grover and I both grinned wickedly.

* * *

"Nico di Angelo!" we screamed, informing everyone around us the name of the gothic kid walking toward us. Blushing madly, the angsty teenager slouched over to us with a perturbed expression painted on his face.

"I hope you both die," he said. He was pulling a black suitcase scattered with skulls on its front, matching his t-shirt and necklace. I laughed, pulling the guy in for a hug, which Grover decided to join in on. We stood in the middle of the airport, a huddle of three men ranging from 17 to 22.

When the hug ended, Nico's face hadn't rid of the redness, instead becoming worse.

"Long time no see, kid," I said, ruffling his hair. "You look as edgy as ever."

"I thought I was being conservative," Nico remarked sarcastically. "I'm hoping you've got a ride for me?"

Grover and I looked at each other, then shook our heads. "We actually skydived here," Grover said.

"Forgot the car in the plane," I explained, rubbing my forehead. "Must've left the emergency brake on. Or didn't switch it out of park."

"I told you to write a reminder on your hand," Grover chastised. "I swear, you've the memory of a elephant."

"Elephants have great memories," Nico corrected. "And will you please shut the hell up and get us out of here."

"Thought you'd never ask," I exclaimed, leading us out the doors and into the parking lot. "How's it been, Nicoroni?"

"Rainbows and dandelions," he retorted. "School's about to start, but instead of being there, I'm being dragged along by my father to a business meeting."

"Hades is a busy man," Grover said. "Both your dad and the mythological god of death. Though I guess there's really no difference, huh?"

Nico gave him a dark glare, making him cower in regret. Nico's father, a well-respected man in the world of stocks, had originally started off as a morgue owner. Ever since we'd met him, Grover thought he smelt death. Of course, Nico hadn't taken too kindly to the claim.

"How's your sister?" I asked.

"Back at school," he said sadly. "She got out of the trip, leaving me alone with dad."

Nico's sister, Bianca, was attending Hunter College, a relatively small university in New York. She was my age, and when I still lived in the city, we became sort of close. But it was only through Nico that we knew each other.

Grover and I had met Nico by accident, if truth be told. A school field trip led us to Las Vegas, where we stayed for two weeks. Rooming in a hotel, we became acquainted with a young, nerdy fanboy of a Greek card game. In a way, we had taken him under our wing, however short our trip may have been. By the time we left, a friendship had been born. Since Nico traveled frequently, we would meet up with him in New York. When his sister started college, we became even closer, as he would often stay with her for weeks at a time.

"She said she misses your late-night meet-ups," Nico continued, glaring daggers towards my direction. "I hope she was just teasing, but I thought I'd bring it up."

Grover stared at me with shock, but I waved him off. "Not like that," I assured Nico. "She accidentally called me late one night when she was stressing over some project. I offered to help her, or at least calm her, and from then on, we'd hang out whenever she became too stressed."

Nico nodded, though I sensed a hint of disappointment. The way I'd met Bianca was through a blind date set up by Grover and Nico. Grover had felt that I needed love in my life, and Nico felt the same way about Bianca, but by the time the appetizers reached the table, we knew we weren't for each other. Regardless, we became good friends.

"I figured," Nico said. "Glad, too. I figure out that you're doing things with my sister, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"Least I won't die by strangling," I remarked. "What with you unable to reach my neck." I jumped away from a kick, and things fell into motion.

By the time we reached his hotel, it felt like we'd never been separated.

"See ya later, alligator!" I called out immaturely after as he walked up to the doors. I received a single finger response before he disappeared out of sight.

"He seemed good," Grover acknowledged earnestly.

"Needs color," I said. "Both a tan and a fashion change." I drove out onto the road, filing into the long afternoon traffic.

"When do you have to be at Poseidon's?" Grover asked. I groaned, my mind having glossed over that task for the past few hours.

"7," I answered. "I think I might cancel, though."

"You can't do that, Perce," Grover scolded. "You've already canceled three times, and those were at least 24 hours in advance. They've probably spent all day prepping."

"Paying their maids to prep," I corrected. "And besides, it's not like it'll be anything special. I'll go in, pretend not to hate my step-family and my father, then leave with a forced smile."

"You don't hate your father," Grover claimed. "You just have problems with him. Problems which can be worked out."

I wanted to argue, but with Grover and emotions, it would be futile. So, I remained silent, dreading tonight's main event.

It was to be my first introduction to Triton and Amphitrite McCartney, and turmoil was sure to present itself. They both held warm reputations, though from my assistant, I'd heard conflicting stories involving Triton. Nonetheless, I planned to make their acquaintances with a clean mind.

"She can't be too happy with my existence," I said suddenly, breaking the silence. "I mean, I'm proof of his infidelity."

"They were split at the time," Grover retorted. "For a few years prior to your conception."

"They were still married," I fired back. "Broken vows are broken vows."

"Then why no divorce?"

"Legal action is a tricky thing."

"You have no experience with legal action, so how would you know?"

"Years of watching NCIS and NYPD Blue."

"Both of which have nothing to do with court."

"Boston Legal does."

"That's a comedy!"

"That in no way makes it false."

Grover sighed, forfeiting the argument. Silence ensued once more, my mind still wrapping itself around what would occur tonight. More than that, what would occur in the future. If I didn't make a good impression, would I remain here? Or would Poseidon kick me out onto the streets? I'd hope he would give me plane ride back east, though who knew how kind he'd be if his wife was controlling him.

"Do you think she made him ignore me?" I blurted out. The words came out before I could give them a second thought, my fears overtaking my filter.

Grover glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I don't know," he answered softly. "But he certainly isn't ignoring you now." I kept that response close, studying it as we reached Grover's apartment. I saw a familiar car parked outside, and I smiled knowingly.

"Juniper is early," I teased, wiggling my eyebrows. Grover blushed mildly, a smile betraying embarrassment.

"I didn't expect traffic," he said, rising out of the car. When I thought he'd start walking to the door, he instead leaned down into the car. "If you want to come by after the thing and vent, my door's open. Figuratively, that is. You'll have to call first."

I smiled in appreciation. "Thanks, G-Man. Tell Juniper I said hello and goodbye."

Grover gave me a concerned look, then went to meet his girlfriend. Alone in my car, I thought of all the possible ways to cancel, but I never built up the courage to call. Finally, I resigned to the get together, turning my car back on and heading back to my apartment to get ready.

* * *

"Perseus Jackson?" asked a woman, opening my car door.

I nodded slowly, stepping out onto the pavement. "I go by Percy. You are?" I asked, holding out a hand

The maid's eyes widened, slowly stretching out her hand and shaking mine. "Delphinus," she said.

She withdrew her hand, motioning for me to follow. _Talk about a lot of Greek names_ , I thought to myself.

The mansion doors stood tall, the entire building made of marble in a Greek architectural style. Much like the office, columns acted as supports, and many of the walls were colored stained glass. Walking into the foyer, I felt a cold child blindside me. The entrance was simply large, void of any decorations or carpets. Several paintings and sculptures were scattered around the room, though there weren't enough to disperse the empty feeling.

"Still brand new," announced a voice to my right. "Only moved in three months ago, and I haven't had the time to plan anything out." My father walked over, examining his house alongside me. The staircase beautifully wrapped around an impressively designed column, but following the example of the foyer, everything else felt large rather than extravagant.

"Amphitrite has been in and out of town, as well," Poseidon continued. "This is the first time in six months she'll be in town for more than a week at a time."

"Mrs. McCartney is awaiting you in the living room when you are ready, sir," said Delphinus.

Poseidon smiled. "Thank you, Delphi. You can take off now." The maid smiled graciously, then took her leave.

"It's good to see you've dressed casually, Perseus," my father said sarcastically. He himself was wearing khakis and a Hawaiian shirt. Meanwhile, I had worn my best suit with a sea-green tie.

"No clarification of formality," I retorted. "And it's Percy."

"Of course," Poseidon said with the ghost of a smirk. "Well, if you're ready, we should go into the living room. Preferably before Amphitrite comes searching for us."

I followed, continuing to look around as we made our way across the house. We went through several rooms, including a personal library, inside garden, and a home theater.

"Triton requested that," Poseidon explained as I stopped to look at the big screen. "He hated bringing dates to the movies."

When we entered the living room, my eyes caught on the huge fish tank which made up the back wall. Standing at least ten feet tall and twenty feet wide, it acted as a backdrop rather than a centerpiece. Fish of all sizes and colors swam peacefully, and after two years studying marine biology in college, I could identify each fish.

"Eyes front, soldier," my father whispered, noticing my attention enticed by the tank. His eyes darted at something to my right, and finally breaking my gaze, I found my stepmother.

Subconsciously, I suppose I had tried never to see a picture of her in a magazine or newspaper. A psychologist might say that I was trying to ignore the fact that perhaps she wasn't the Satan spawn I wished her to be. Regardless, I could no longer ignore someone who was only seven feet away.

To put it frankly, she was beautiful. Long wavy black hair had been curled intricately, laid down upon her shoulders and chest. She stood roughly a head shorter than Poseidon. Her brown eyes, which were found behind luscious eyelashes, studied me like a math equation, as if she suspected me of holding the answers to the SAT.

"Perseus Jackson," her voice boomed, a slight echo slipping out of the room and into the large hallway. Despite the fish tank, the living room was still mostly empty space.

She held out her arms for a hug, and I complied. "It is so nice to finally meet you." To my surprise, her voice sounded sincere.

"You as well, m'lady," I replied, the hug ceasing. I internally cursed myself for sounding like a 16th century lord. "And please, call me Percy." My words sounded friendly, but in actuality, I was tired of hearing my full name being said aloud.

"Percy it is, then," she said, smiling up at me. "I'm glad you could finally join us. Though if you have somewhere to be, I don't want to make you late." Her eyes were stuck to my suit, and I quickly shook my head.

"Poseidon never told me what to wear," I explained. She herself was wearing a simple miniskirt with what appeared to be a Hawaiian shirt for women.

She smacked my father harmlessly. "You'd have him thinking we're all snotty pricks who eat pizza with cutlery."

"Language, young lady," Poseidon chastised. "Bad influence on the kid."

"Speaking of which, where is his brother," she said, deciding to ignore his quip. "I told Triton you'd be here by now."

"And here I am," a voice replied from the doorway. Standing taller than even myself, the man in question walked over in evenly-paced steps, emitting an aura of extreme self-confidence. He wore a flannel and jeans, but both were a little too tight on him, as if he wanted to make sure spectators saw the results of his workout. He resembled his mother more than our father, with brown eyes and a similar facial structure.

"You must be Perseus," he said, holding out a hand. I shook it, his hold nearly identical to the one I received from Luke Castellan.

"He goes by Percy," our father said. "And give it a break, Triton. Not everyone likes to play mercy."

Triton released my hand, and instead looked me up and down. "He certainly looks like you, father," he noted. "Though his hairline seems to be racing yours."

"Triton," Amphitrite warned coldly.

"Sorry, my mind often veers off topic," Triton apologized artificially. "Shall we take a seat and swap stories, or are we planning on standing all night?"

Amphitrite glared at her son, but nevertheless, she led us to the sofas, where she and Poseidon sat together and Triton and I both took our own chairs.

"So, tell us about yourself, Percy," Amphitrite said.

I scratched the back of my head nervously, unprepared to answer. "Well, let's see. I grew up in New York, made a few friends, found an interest in marine biology, got an associate's degree in it, and a year later I received a call from the man beside you." My words came out robotically, each chosen with the intention to avoid any sensitive topic.

"22 years old, and less than a second for each year," Triton said, clapping his hands. Poseidon shot him a death glare, to which he ceased clapping.

"I love New York," Amphitrite beamed, ignoring her son. "Such a busy city. Never a dull moment, except for the weather. Did you ever watch the ball drop?"

I smiled in remembrance. "Only once. The weather was atrocious, though I suppose I'll always be able to say I saw it in person."

"Nothing quite like that here, I suppose," Triton said. "Alas, we only have the most prosperous economy in the entire country. Shame on us."

A glare from his mother silenced him for the moment. Long enough for my father to turn to me.

"I've made a new hire recently," he announced with a proud smile. "One that I think you'll be glad to hear of."

I groaned internally, but nonetheless motioned for him to continue. "I've managed to find someone that may help you transition into your job smoothly. Or, smoother than it has been."

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

Poseidon cleared his throat. "Well, they are somewhat of a medium that can translate all of the technical aspects of your job and relate them to you properly. Not only that, but I believe she will come to be a proper friend and asset to this company."

"Babysitter!" Triton laughed. Despite despising his tone and attitude so far, I had to agree.

"No," our father argued. "Consider her a transition agent of a sort. Besides, she'll only be part time, and she has other work that will keep her preoccupied for most of the time."

"You've hired me a friend, then," I summarized. Poseidon looked like he wanted to debate, but sighed in defeat.

"I thought I was helping," he somewhat mumbled in disappointment. I felt guilty, but to be fair, he'd assigned me a nanny.

"I'm sure you'll outgrow your booster seat soon enough, Perseus," Triton sneered, his feigned humor unable to hide the entirety of his vindictive intentions.

"Triton, your comments are unneeded," said Poseidon, an edge to his voice.

"Where did you go to college?" Amphitrite asked, trying her best to change subjects.

"Stony Brook University," I replied.

"You said you were studying marine biology," Poseidon remembered. "Isn't that a four-year program?"

I looked at the floor sheepishly, my cheeks reddening. "I took a year off to work."

"Of course he couldn't pay," Triton butted in. "It's not like he comes from a maternal goldmine."

Blood froze in my veins, all my effort going into maintaining civility. "I suppose not," was all I managed.

"I mean, your mother being a whore and whatnot," Triton goaded. The atmosphere in the room dropped, any lightheartedness abandoning the four of us.

I nearly lost it at his words, my mind unable to comprehend what he had just said. A smug grin playing across his lips, I knew he was trying to find my trigger. Regardless, he called my mother a whore, and he was right in assuming I wouldn't take it kindly.

"Triton!" Poseidon barked, his tone affirmative. He glanced at me, and I'm sure what he saw was a pot near its boiling point. I had begun gritting my teeth and balling my hands into fists, glaring at his other son with lethal eyes.

"I mean, that's what she was. A whore you laid before ditching like any sane man would. She was a common bitch, and now she's d-"

He never finished, as with one clean swipe, my right fist connected square with his jaw. It felt like slow motion as I watched him slam hard against the ground, face planting against the marble ground.

"Say another word and I'll stomp your brain into ground beef," I warned, standing over my downed half-brother.

"Perseus Jackson!" my father's voice boomed loudly, jumping up. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. Despite his stature, his eyes were pleading with me to back down.

"A slut's golden knight," I heard Triton whisper. Before I could kick him in the chest, our father's arms were wrapped around me, pulling me back. I may be strong, but Poseidon was much stronger.

"I'll get him cleaned up," spoke Amphitrite, leaning down to help her son up. She looked at me, and to my surprise, she radiated sympathy.

Once they left the room, my father released me. "What the hell were you thinking?" he chided.

"You heard him!" I said indignantly, looking upon with my father incredulously. "That's my mother he was talking about!"

"He was pushing you," he stated bluntly. "You should've ignored him."

"Well you didn't do jackshit, _dad,_ " I retorted. "I wasn't just going to sit there!"

"Triton's words are nothing to take to heart," Poseidon explained. "Now calm yourself down. Dinner's in ten minutes."

I gazed at him, the figure in front of me resembling that of a man disciplining his toddler. Disappointment hardly described what I felt.

I shook my head at him, a dry smile breaking out. Without a word, I walked away and towards the door.

"Percy!" he called out.

"Kiss my ass!" I called back, stepping through the doorway and slamming it shut behind me.

When I reached the driveway, I found Delphinus still collecting her things.

"Percy, sir," she said, stopping to address me. "Did you forget something?" She motioned to my vehicle, to which I laughed in response.

"My tolerance for dickheads, apparently," I quipped bitterly, then opened the door and started my car.

* * *

By the time I parked outside the diner, I'd been driving aimlessly for what felt like hours. My anger hadn't completely subsided, but after nearly breaking my knuckles from clenching the steering wheel so hard, I knew driving was hardly helping. I also needed a meal, and like the bachelor I was, I hadn't gone grocery shopping in weeks.

Stepping inside, I heard the familiar ringing from the bells overhead. Much like it was the first time I was here, the place was packed. So packed that, glancing around the room, I found no empty seats. Regardless, I walked up to the greeter.

"I'd like to get a table for one," I said. Whether she knew it or not, I saw her eyes roll.

"We're full, sir," she said, annoyance plain in her tone. "And we don't accept anyone after ten o'clock."

I looked up to the clock, then back to her. "It's a quarter till," I offered, my own voice failing. I hated to be _that_ guy, but I needed something to eat.

"There are no seats, sir," she repeated. "We're sorry, but we're going to have to ask you to leave." Already in a bad mood, I wanted to argue, but before I could, I was interrupted by a familiar waitress who excused herself before whispering into the greeter's ear.

"Right this way," the greeter said, a fake smile plastered upon her face.

She led me to the other side of the diner, where a spacious booth held a familiar blonde.

"Someone will be with you soon," the greeter announced, laying down a menu before departing.

"How'd you get a booth?" I asked to the figure across from me.

"How'd you get it the first time?" she retorted.

I shrugged. "A knife to the waitress' throat, like always."

"I threatened to shatter the windows with rocks," she said. "Much less lethal."

I grinned, and Annabeth Chase showed signs of following my example.

"What can I get you, sir?" asked the familiar waitress. I answered instinctively.

"Chicken tenders with a coke, please."

As she left, I looked at Annabeth, who was sipping her drink and looking at her plate. "A salad?" I questioned.

She put her drink down, shrugging her shoulders. "I had a pizza for lunch. Didn't feel like having any more grease." She opened and closed her mouth as if to show her disgust.

"If you don't mind me asking, what're you doing here?" I asked.

"I'll follow the rules and answer first, but you're next," she said, stabbing a forkful of lettuce. "My family went out to a fancy restaurant before I got home, so I had to fend for myself in the wild jungle of dinner decisions."

"Risky," I commented. "Could've ended up at Denny's. They're notorious for poisoning blonde, gray-eyed architects."

"And you?"

I paused, unsure whether to answer honestly. Luckily, the waitress returned with my coke, allocating more time for me to decide.

"Apartment caught on fire," I finally answered. "All of my food burned, but thankfully there was no other damage. Unfortunately, it meant I had to go out tonight."

She glared at me, not a hint of amusement crossing her eyes. I began to feel threatened, so I quickly started once more.

"Alright," I conceded, holding up my hands in surrender. "Was supposed to have a family dinner and it didn't turn out well."

She accepted the answer, nodding her head as I finished. "I know how that feels," she said. "Anything in particular happen?" She had a curious glint in her eyes, and as it usually was with her, I couldn't read it.

"Nothing important," I replied. "Just had a somewhat large disagreement with my step-brother."

"Over?" she pushed on.

"My mother," I answered bluntly.

"Ooh, even more relatable," she stated. "What did he say?"

In my mind, I knew I probably shouldn't continue. But for some reason, I felt comfortable. From her gaze I could tell Annabeth wasn't judging me or making assumptions. Instead, she seemed to be genuinely intrigued.

"He called my mother a whore," I said, my anger somehow lacking from my voice. "Then called her a commoner, followed by another comment about her being a slut. I responded by knocking his jaw out of socket." Of course, I exaggerated, but nonetheless, Annabeth clapped.

"Talk shit, get hit," she claimed. I stared at her for a moment, then busted out in euphoric laughter. After a few seconds, I heard her join me.

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, her smile audible through her voice.

I finally calmed myself down to stifled laughter, grabbing a napkin to wipe my eyes. "I don't know," I said through an uncontrollable chuckle. "Just unexpected, I suppose."

Annabeth shook her head, smiling widely whilst rolling her eyes. "You're such a seaweed brain," she commented.

I tilted my head. "Seaweed brain?"

"Sounds like a good nickname," she said, following her words with a mouthful of lettuce.

"Well aren't you just a wise girl," I quipped.

After swallowing, she squinted her eyes at me. "Really? Wise girl? That doesn't even bear resemblance to an insult."

I waved her off as the waitress arrived, laying my plate in front of me. As she departed, I saw Annabeth sober up, her eyes studying me.

"Everything alright, owl brain?" I asked

"Still awful," she said, shaking her head at my attempted insult. "And kind of." She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. My heartbeat quickened for some unknown reason, but I ignored it as I grabbed a chicken tender.

"You never told me you were Poseidon's son," she finally said. I held a tender in front of my mouth, stopping before I could chew. Setting it back onto the tray, I raised an eyebrow.

"Never got brought up," I answered. "How do you know that?"

"Grover told me," she said quickly, momentarily losing her composure. She immediately recovered and continued. "So, when I was studying in front of you the first time we met, and I told you I wanted to be an architect, you never thought to bring up your own experience?"

"I didn't have any," I explained honestly. "Still don't, really. I have no idea how to do anything. Hell, it's to the point where my father's hired a babysitter, like that isn't insulting en-" I stopped, my brain working overtime as an idea just popped into my brain. As I looked at Annabeth shrinking in her seat, I knew my mind had assumed correctly.

"You're my babysitter," I acknowledged, the statement void of doubt. She nodded sheepishly, but her smile looked more amused than embarrassed.

I pondered the idea, indecisive on whether to be angry. I sat there, dumbly staring at her as I tried to clear my emotions. Surely it could be worse, but would I be able to work with Annabeth?

"Well, I suppose that's not too bad, then," I said, making up my mind. "Forewarning, I'm awful with a pencil."

Annabeth looked at me in surprise as I picked up my tender once more. "You're not upset or anything?" she inquired.

I shook my head. "Better than a stranger. Though I do pity you. You'll have to deal with my ADHD and dyslexia in the office."

"I have that too, y'know," she said. "That's actually how most of our friend group formed. In fact, only Rachael and Grover don't have it."

"Half-bloods," I said. "The camp was made for that, then? For challenged kids?"

Annabeth glared at me. "Not _challenged._ God, you make it sound terrible."

"I didn't mean to," I argued. "Just, I'm guessing the camp was made for those with dyslexia and ADHD. Though how Grover ended up there, I have no clue."

"Legs," Annabeth said. "And Rachael was there because of some personal issues." She coughed at this, as if it were making her uncomfortable. "Anyway, yes, the camp was made for people like us. I'm surprised Grover never invited you. It's been around for more than a decade."

Ten years ago would've put me at 12, and I immediately knew why I'd never heard about it. "He probably did and I didn't hear him. Sometimes my ears get clogged with all the seaweed." The reference to my earlier nickname caused her to laugh, and as she did, a warm feeling overcame me, replacing the guilt that formed after I lied.

"Your check, ma'am," the waitress said, laying down the bill. Annabeth suppressed her laughter into a smile, thanking the waitress before pulling out twelve dollars.

"I hate to leave you, but I've got to pack," Annabeth apologized, and from her tone, I knew it was sincere. "I'm moving back in with Thalia and Piper tomorrow, and I still have a lot to do."

"It's fine," I said, waving off her apology. She rose to her feet.

"I'll see you later, Percy," she said. I nodded, words unable to form in my throat. But before she could walk too far away, my voice finally returned to me.

"Annabeth," I called out, causing her to turn back around. We met eyes, and I gave her a genuine smile.

"Thank you," I said simply. "For tonight. I needed it." Judging by her returned smile, I assumed that my words sounded as sincere as they felt.

I watched as she left, my eyes returning to her before finally, the doors closed. Immediately after, a familiar emptiness returned to me. Disregarding it, I grabbed another tender and finished my meal.

By the time I left, it was half an hour until midnight. I studied my surroundings as I walked to my car, conditioned to the dangers of a late-night city. As I finally reached my vehicle, I dropped my gaze. Still, my eyes caught on something, and as I closed my door, I swore that I saw a silhouette across the street staring at me. But once I was looking through my windshield, it seemed to disperse, and I shook it off. With the day I'd had, my imagination was not my main concern.

Driving back to my house, I collapsed on the couch. Despite the earlier atrocity, I smiled into my pillow, falling asleep with the memory of the diner replaying in my mind.

 **Longer chapter, but I thought it all fit well. Any suggestions are welcome. I'll probably try to update weekly, but I don't want to set a schedule and stress myself out. Also, my chapters are named after Beatles songs, and the theme usually follows either the title or the context of the song. For this chapter, the chapter is named after the context.** **Just thought I'd throw that out there.**


	5. Chapter 5: If I Fell

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson.**

Percy POV

 _Light flashed with each blink, my sight turning black and white as I looked upon my old apartment with plagued eyes. A shrill voice called to me, but my feet were frozen to the ground. Littered with greasy clothing and crushed beer cans, the place reeked of spilt booze and rotting pizza. My instincts overwhelmed by the scene, I felt myself drowning in place._

 _I trudged through the mess and lethargy, turning the corner to catch a full view of the kitchen. To my right, the refrigerator door stood open with food and condiments strewn upon the floor. Below, the freezer sat dented, the metallic surface having caved in. To my left, I saw the oven windows shattered, tinted glass shards painting the kitchen tiles. The microwave door, ripped from its counterpart, sat in the middle of the pile, the plastic broken into several pieces._

 _The voice called out once more, but my ears suppressed the noise. Static had enveloped my senses, a piercing ring throbbing my temples. Regardless, I tried to follow the voice. Stepping out into the hallways, I found picture frames slammed onto the ground upside down, holes in the wall where they used to hang._

 _Finally, I managed to stumble into a familiar room. Blue painted walls and a ceiling fan overhead, I flinched at what I had always considered a safe haven. This momentary nostalgia ceased as my eyes caught on a body sprawled upon the floor. Dread filled my heart, and as I ran to her, my vision tunneled._

 _Folding her body over, I found her shoulder with a deep gash across it. Her arms and cheeks wore different shades of black and blue, the latter having a welt directly underneath her right eye. Limp in my arms, she hardly resembled the same woman who'd raised me._

 _Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the light which strained against the window curtains. Void of any hope, her gaze struggled to focus. Nevertheless, she raised her hand to my cheek, brushing away my silent tears. She went to speak to me, but I felt my body lurch forward, my vision blackening as my senses were overcome by incoherent voices and screeching._

I awoke with a start, slamming my chest painfully against my desk as I jumped from my chair. The impact pushed me back into the seat, to which I took a moment to catch my breath and rub what would soon become quite the bruise.

"Are you alright?" asked a familiar voice to my left. My eyes quickly searched for the source.

"Annabeth," I stated dumbly, speaking more to myself. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern as her hands gripped tightly to her briefcase.

"Bad dream?" she said, her face softening. I glanced down at myself, then rubbed my forehead, only to find it drenched in sweat.

"Yeah," I replied, attempting to collect myself. Pacing my breaths, I squeezed my eyes tightly, then opened them. "Nightmare." A thought came to mind, and I looked her up and down. "What exactly are you doing here?"

Her expression morphed, amusement glinting in her eyes. "This is my office."

I snorted. "Funny. How did you get in?"

"The door," she said, retaining her amusement as her posture motioned to the other side of the room. "And this is my office. That," she pointed to the opposite corner, "will be where I put my desk. Eventually. I dunno, I'll probably just use yours 'till next week. You're abusing it as a bed anyways."

"Accidentally," I defended. "I just happen to fall asleep easily. Back to the current predicament, who assigned you to my office?"

"Your father," she answered, and I flinched in response. I still hadn't talked to him since the dinner, and I'd been avoiding his calls with more effort than I put into my work. "I thought you knew it was my first day?"

"I thought you said Tuesday."

"It is Tuesday."

"Of course it is." I attempted my best charming smile, but she simply shook her head in annoyance. Reading my watch, I ticked childishly. "It's a quarter past four, Chase. You were to start at 1."

"I've been working with Malcolm, kelp head," Annabeth retorted. "Appears as though that's where I'll spend most of my time in the future, since you'll be taking frequent naps."

"Those with intricate minds need adequate rest, Annabelle," I claimed, to which she glared in return. "And to repeat, I didn't mean to fall asleep. Mere coincidence you showed up at that precise time. But as it turns out, I am going to offer you my desk for the remaining forty-five minutes." I rose from my chair, pushing it out and motioning with my hands like a gentleman.

She raised an eyebrow. "Where are you going?" She moved behind my desk, pausing before taking at seat.

"Grover called earlier," I explained, slipping into my jacket. "Asked if I could meet him this afternoon. I told him I couldn't do it, that I'd fallen behind at work, but he did that thing with his voice."

"The falsetto quiver?" Annabeth inferred. She'd begun sprawling out her work over mine, and I became amused in her disregard for my papers.

"That," I confirmed. I scratched the back of my neck, slightly chuckling. "I'm assuming it's an emergency, but I haven't got a clue."

Annabeth suddenly looked up at me, gazing at me with an 'I know something you don't know' look. "Good luck. Worst thing ever, by the way."

"How do you know what he wants?" I asked. She refused to answer my question, instead turning back to her pages and waving me away as if I were an inconvenience.

"Distractions are an unnecessary plague, Mr. Jackson," Annabeth articulated like a British school teacher. "Choose to be a bother on your own time."

"Of course, headmistress," I said, picking up my briefcase. "Please don't punish me again like last weekend. I'd hate to be up all night." I thickened my tone to appear lusty, hoping for a certain reaction. What I didn't expect was that reaction to overrun her entire face.

"You alright, rosy cheeks?" I asked, the grin on my face feeling immovable. The stapler flew right by my ear as I dodged it at the last second.

"Have a good evening, Miss Chase!" I yelled as I ran out the room, closing the door just as some book clung against the wall. Oh, the future seemed bright.

* * *

For six years, I drove nearly everywhere I went. Whether it be the sense of responsibility or a subconscious distrust of other drivers, I always made sure I drove with friends or family. So, as I rode in the backseat of Grover's Jeep with Nico beside me and Piper in the passenger seat, I couldn't stop my foot from tapping nervously.

"Free enchilada night at the local Mexican restaurant?" Nico suggested, attempting to predict where Grover was taking us. Neither Nico nor I knew where we were going, and Piper and Grover refused to tell us.

"No, Grover would've run them out by noon," I said. "Is it a nature rally? Cause I'd like to throw out a better evening event. Steinhart's aquarium is giving out free bobble heads to children under fourteen, and I think Piper and Nico could easily pass."

"Calling me immature?" protested Piper.

"He's calling us short," Nico corrected. Piper turned back to look at me.

"If anyone could pass, it'd be you. For God's sake, you're wearing a Wiggles t-shirt."

"It's in loving memory of Jeff," I justified.

"Jeff's not dead," Nico said. I patted him gently on the shoulder.

"It's okay, I was in denial as well," I comforted, earning me a slap on the arm.

I felt the car jerk to a stop, internally breathing a sigh of relief. Grover had always been terrible at stopping on time, and it was a miracle for him not to jump the curb.

He turned around, facing us with pleading eyes. Lowering my body, I tried to look at where we were, but Grover did his best to block my vision. "I brought you all here to help me with something life-threatening."

I balled my hands into fists, and I figured my face hardened noticeably. It felt like my body was on auto-pilot, regressing into my middle school mindset. Back then, if Grover said anything about his life being threatened, it meant bullying.

"Why are we at a jewelry store?" Nico asked, looking out the window. I felt my façade fall, and I quickly lowered the window and poked my head out to find the car parked in front of a jewelry store. When I ducked my head back in, Grover was nervously rubbing his hands. As if on cue, I understood what we were called for.

"You're picking out a ring," I answered the question, my smile unable to restrain itself. Piper raised a thumbs-up whilst Grover nodded sheepishly.

"Thought it was about time," he said, the excitement seeping into his voice. "And with you living here and Nico in town, I thought it was the perfect time to buy it. And of course, Piper was willing to join us."

"You'll need a woman's perspective," she chimed in. "I know her pretty well."

"Jason happened to be busy tonight," Grover remarked, much to Piper's chagrin.

"Why not get her a necklace?" suggested Nico. "Rings are so old-fashioned."

"Nothing says 'I love you' like dog tags," I said sarcastically. Nico huffed.

"Juniper is very old fashioned," Piper said. "She wouldn't want anything else. So, how about we get out of the car and get the job done?"

Nobody argued, and as we entered the store, Grover couldn't decide whether to put his hands in his pockets or keep them by his sides. I pointed it out to Nico, who simply snorted and shook his head. I found the display of nervousness endearing, a warm feeling flooding my heart. I swore that I was too gushy sometimes, but I couldn't help it.

A bell rang above, and almost immediately, a jeweler met us. "Good evening, all," he announced loudly, waving his hand dramatically. "Could I be of some service?" The man smiled, his teeth reflecting the near-perfect lighting of the store. I assumed his flawless teeth helped distract customers from his height, but as he stood on the boarder of five-feet, it was hard not to acknowledge.

"I'm looking for an engagement ring," Grover blurted out, seizing the opportunity for professional help. If possible, the man's smile widened, and he took Grover by the shoulder and led him away, pointing at several racks of jewelry whilst droning on about quality.

The three of us began looking around aimlessly, pretending to be interested in watches and earrings while we awaited Grover's return.

"Think Juniper would like this?" Nico asked, holding up a camouflage ring. I read the price tag, then shrugged.

"Probably help with budget," I said, picking up a pair of oval earrings. They were roughly the size of my palm, and I was almost sure a golf ball could fit through the holes. "Diamonds kill wallets."

"You do have experience," Nico remarked, then bit his lip regretfully. Memories threatened to flood me, but Piper's voice caught me first.

"So, I heard Annabeth's started her first day as your babysitter," she teased, handling a golden pocket watch. I laughed sarcastically.

"Very funny," I replied. "Yeah, she started today. Only saw her for a minute before I left, though."

"Who's Annabeth?" Nico inquired, an eyebrow raised.

"A mutual friend and roommate," Piper explained. "Surprised Percy didn't mention her, since they had a date a couple nights ago."

I choked on air for a moment before regaining my composure. "I'm sorry, what?"

Piper's smile held an edge. "Come on, Percy. I live with her. You think I didn't ask her why she came home late?"

Nico sighed. "Percy, you've been holding out. Getting busy with a new woman late at night."

If I were near him, I would've slapped him. Sadly, a countertop of jewelry divided us. Instead, I just pointed at him threateningly. "Not like that. See what you did, Piper? Criss Angel over here thinks I'm sleeping with her."

"No, but who knows what the future might hold," she sighed, pretending to look away despite keeping me in the corner of her eye.

I felt a blush creep upon me. "Look, I've only had dinner with her a couple times. Nothing further than that. And they weren't dates."

Piper's eyes widened. "Two dates? Jesus, she didn't tell me about the first."

I facepalmed, fully aware that I was digging my own grave. "They _weren't_ dates. The first time the diner didn't have any open seats for her and I offered to share my booth. The second time was the exact same situation, except our positions were swapped."

"When was the first time?" Piper inquired, looking thoughtfully at a bracelet.

I pondered the question. "I dunno, a little while before I met you."

She set the bracelet down, turning to me. "That means you'd known her prior to the dinner." I nodded, then she continued. "Then why did you both act like strangers?"

I shrugged. "We found it to be fun. Besides, we were still mostly strangers. And after Luke attempted to break my hand, I thought I'd just play everything cool."

"Yeah, that was strange," Piper commented. "It was like he felt threatened."

"Yeah, crazy," Nico interrupted. "Perce, what do ya think?" He held up a nose ring to his face, squishing his nose back to resemble a pig. "Fits me, right?"

I glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then went over and grabbed the ring from him, slapping the back of his head as I placed the ring back to its spot. "It says not to touch. Also, I think it says 'Nico smells awful' in small print."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright," Grover announced, walking over to us with a skip in his walk. "I think I found it." We gathered around him, and he opened the case to reveal a simple gold-banded ring with a relatively small diamond. Regardless, it was made beautifully and simply, and judging by Piper's vehement nod, it seemed like the one.

"Plainly beautiful," she admired. "Juniper will love it."

Grover's goofy smile hadn't left his face even as we climbed back into his Jeep. We'd decided to stop at a drive-through to pick up some food, then Grover would drop us off as we rode along.

"What do you think of Percy's dates, Grover?" asked Piper as she handed out the appropriate meals to Nico and me. Once Grover pulled out of McDonald's, he got to a stoplight and looked back at me.

"You went on a date and didn't tell me?" he said, looking hurt by my withdrawal of information.

"They weren't dates," I explained. I saw Nico putting his head in his hands, looking annoyed by the resurgence of the topic.

"Who were they with?" he inquired, ignoring my words.

"Annabeth," Piper answered. "She told me about the second date, but Percy tells of a first encounter."

Grover knew me well, and judging by his face, I knew he wasn't buying into Piper's claim that they were dates. Regardless, I couldn't rid this nervous pit that had formed in my stomach.

"You'd be good together," he commented, surprising both Piper and me.

"Like peanut butter and jelly," Nico quipped. "Batman and Robin. Jordan and Pippin. Hitler and Mussolini."

"You really would," Piper said contently, relaxing in her chair whilst ignoring Nico. I saw Grover and her exchange a look, then the conversation dropped.

It wasn't until we dropped Nico and Piper off that the topic resurfaced.

"Annabeth would be good for you," Grover said as he lowered the radio. "And the same goes for her. I really mean that, too."

I'd moved into the front seat, allowing me to see how genuine Grover was being. I shrugged as a response.

"We're friends, Grover," I explained, keeping my voice quiet. Sleepiness was beginning to set in, and looking out the window, my eyelids threatened to close. "I enjoy her company, and I think she's beautiful and brilliant. But I don't want to date her."

"You would have," he said, his volume matching mine. "Had it not been for Calypso."

Despite the sudden name drop, I hardly flinched. Calypso had been my girlfriend all throughout high school, and by the time college had started, I'd thought we might make it to marriage. But things complicated our relationship, and although I bought an engagement ring, I never even popped the question. We broke up at the end of freshman year, and since then, I hadn't been in a relationship.

"It's not because of Calypso," I disagreed. "It's just this feeling."

"You're afraid," he retorted. "You feel that if you put yourself out to someone, you'll end up getting hurt. Percy, that's how people become lonely."

I wanted to argue, to chide him for making such strange and incorrect assumptions, but I couldn't. Even if I didn't believe what he was saying, I had no good reason _not_ to want to date Annabeth. In fact, every time I was around her, the world became more exciting. Simple conversation was riveting. And regardless of how hard I could try, a smile hardly left my face.

"I barely know her," I pointed out, desperately trying to make a case for my claim. "And she wouldn't want to date me."

"Get to know her," Grover responded. "I think once you do, you won't need me to convince you that she's worth the risk."

We sat in comfortable silence as he drove, and I continued to look out the window dramatically. A thousand different thoughts raced through my mind, but even though this usually evoked some sort of headache, everything felt peaceful.

Pulling up just outside my apartment building, Grover nudged me out of my thoughts. "Thank you for coming tonight," he said, his right hand grazing the box.

I patted him on the shoulder. "No problem, G-man. I would say anytime, but I don't think you'll be doing this again."

Grover laughed, dropping his gaze. He began to play with his collar, and I knew he had something in his mind.

"I want you to be my best man," he blurted out, his voice outrunning his thoughts.

I smiled brightly, and I knew that if I was a crier, I'd be bawling right now. "I would be honored to be your best man, future Mr. Juniper Underwood," I replied. Grover got choked up, tears starting to overcome him. He laughed at the play on names, then pulled me into a hug.

"She has to say yes first," he said, causing me to break out into laughter as well.

"Well, when she does, count me in on the position." I opened the car door, looking back through the open window. "Good luck, Grover. You don't need it."

He didn't speak, instead opting to nod in appreciation. As he drove off, I turned to the building, unsure how I was going to stay awake long enough to make it to my room.

Through my sleepy haze, I thought I made out a silhouette in a second-floor window in the building across form mine. The figure seemed to be gazing down upon me, watching as I walked inside the building.

It wasn't until I entered the lobby that I realized that my heart was beating dangerously fast. Sweat had formed on my brow, and as I held out a hand, I saw that it was shaking uncontrollably.

By the time I reached my room, I'd decided that I'd been seeing things. I calmed myself down, fixing a cup of milk and throwing myself onto my bed. Despite my argument, my last thoughts before consciousness were once again of a quick-witted blonde architect. 

**A little bit late, but I needed time to figure out where I want to go with this. Also, school started once again, and I've got a lot of writing to do for that, so I figure I'll update biweekly or so. If you have suggestions or criticism, please feel free to articulate them.**


	6. Chapter 6: We Can Work It Out

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns this franchise, not me. Crazy as it sounds, I speak the truth.**

 **Took me a while to update. Kind of lost motivation. I don't know if I'll continue, especially since I wrote this about two months ago and am just now publishing it. Nevertheless, if enough people review and favorite, maybe I'll give it some thought. No promises.**

 **Chapter 6: We Can Work It Out**

 _Annabeth POV_

"Go fish," Thalia said, tossing a couple pretzels into her mouth. One missed, and it broke into several pieces on the hardwood floor.

"That's a lie," Luke exasperated, shaking his finger pointedly. "You asked for a pufferfish three turns ago."

Thalia raised her deck above her head, as if searching for a lost card. "Shucks. Seems it went for a swim in the river. Until it comes back, go fish."

Luke sighed, picking up a card. Smiling, he laid down his new pair of pufferfish whilst Thalia frowned in disappointment. I smirked at her in amusement, and she stuck out her tongue at me.

"Thalia, have a pufferfish?" I asked, winking at her. I only had one card left, and if I got the pair, I'd win.

She looked down at my hand, then glanced at Luke as he visibly freaked out. Handing over the card, I placed my final pair onto the table as Luke cursed bitterly.

"Bunch of horse crap," Luke exclaimed. "I should have won!"

A loud ding came from my phone, but I ignored it, instead grabbing a couple chips and scarfing them down as Thalia collected the cards. "You'll win one day, Lukey," she said. "Might be when Annabeth or I get Alzheimer's and you can abuse our disabilities, but it'll happen eventually." Luke rolled his eyes, falling back onto the couch childishly.

It'd been seven years since we started our biweekly meet-up, and not once had Luke beaten us at Go Fish. The tradition started after we all met in middle school. Thalia and Luke were both a year older than I, but after an incident with a slightly obnoxious classmate, Thalia flattened the girl and took me under her wing.

Originally, we would get together on weekends, as school nights were deemed too risky for our sleep schedules. Naturally, we continued meeting on weekends until we started college. Inconsistencies caused by trips home or work led us to changing it to Tuesdays. Which is how, after spending my first day of work nervously fretting on how well-suited I appeared for my job, I was now happily blowing off steam by winning a childish card game.

"Pass the remote," Luke asked, crossing his legs. "I wanna see who's winning the game."

"Pre-season doesn't matter," Thalia said, shaking her head. Nevertheless, she tossed the remote across the room. "You're such a nerd."

Luke pretended to push up imaginary glasses as he glared at Thalia indignantly. Laughing, I rose to my feet and grabbed my phone, looking at the notification. Piper had texted me an hour ago. The message: _Two dates, huh? Feel like I'm being left out._

I felt my face redden, and I really wanted to reply, but I couldn't think of what to say, so I laid my phone down and pondered my situation.

"What's wrong, Miss Frank Lloyd Wright?" Thalia inquired quietly, noticing my reaction. Luke didn't hear, too enveloped in the final minutes of the game.

"Piper thinks I'm going out with Percy Jackson," I explained calmly.

Thalia gave me a curious look. "Are you?"

"Emphasis on _thinks_ , Thals," I said.

"Where'd she get the idea?" she asked, much to my chagrin. Before I could really decide on how to answer, I heard the apartment door unlock, and when it swung open, Piper was standing in the doorway with a mischievous grin.

"Give it two weeks, and Mr. Underwood will be off the dating market forever," she announced. Thalia and I whooped, whilst Luke held up a hand triumphantly and continued watching the game. Piper shook her head at Luke, walking over to us. The grin was still plastered on her face.

"Miss Chase, lovely to see you," she said amusedly. "Happens to be a topic I wish to discuss with you involving a certain young lad by the surname of Jackson."

Thalia rolled her eyes, though she seemed intrigued by the topic nonetheless. I put my hands on my hips defensively.

"There's nothing to discuss," I remarked, lazily gazing at her. She blew air out her nose loudly, shaking her head in disagreement.

"Spending several hours with the boy tells me otherwise," she retorted, walking over to the cabinet and grabbing a glass. "To my understanding, you have been withholding essential information."

"God, your mother's really broken your restraint, huh?" Thalia noticed. Piper's mother, Aphrodite, was unarguably the most romance-obsessed person any of us had ever met. Piper always played off any inherited traits, trying her hardest not to be like her. But tonight, her stubborn mindset was contradicting itself.

"Exceptions are made for best friends," Piper contested. "And Annabeth hasn't been on a date since junior year of high school. Now I hear she's been on two within the past month, and we weren't even told!"

"Dates?" Luke's voice called out, followed by his appearance a few seconds after. "What's going on?"

Piper squinted her eyes at him as she poured a cup of apple juice in her glass. "None of your business, Aryan face."

"Apparently Annie's been busy," Thalia said, a smug grin stretched from ear to ear. I glared daggers at her, which only furthered her amusement. "What was it you've repeated a dozen times, Piper? Two dates?"

"With who?" Luke inquired, a dangerous edge to his voice. Both Thalia and Piper, who had been laughing with each other at my position, sobered, skeptically looking at Luke.

"With _whom_ ," I corrected. "And they think I'm going out with that Percy Jackson," I tried to explain nonchalantly, as if I hardly cared for the guy. I knew Luke disliked him, and I really didn't feel like dealing with a disgruntled Luke.

He scrunched his face in disgust. "You can do better, Beth," he said, grabbing a couple grapes from the bowl on the countertop and popping a few in his mouth. "That guy creeps me out."

"I've been meaning to ask," Thalia interrupted before I could speak. "Why do you hate the guy? I haven't seen him do a single thing wrong."

"He has this aura around him," Luke argued. "Like he's better than us."

"Are you tripping acid, blondie?" Piper said. "Hell, the guy's humbler than most of us. And that's saying something, considering he's the son of Poseidon McCartney."

Luke looked at me. "What about the way he spoke to Annabeth at dinner? It's like he skipped any initial courtesy and went straight to making jokes."

I shrunk under the comment, smiling despite myself. "That's because I knew him beforehand," I interrupted.

"What?" Luke said, taken aback.

"One of their two dates happened before the dinner," Piper interjected. "And it was just the two of them eating together late at night."

"Why'd you play strangers, then?" he said.

I held up my hands. "They weren't dates, and I suppose I'm easily entertained. We both kinda amused ourselves with inside jokes, and we didn't want to ruin it."

Luke went silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. He refused to look at me, instead glaring at the countertop dangerously. Finally, he broke his gaze, and with a sigh, he grabbed his coat.

"I'll see you guys later," was all he said, not even looking at us. By the time the door slammed shut, the three of us were finally knocked from our shock, all of us in disbelief at what had just occurred.

"Pretty boy seems jealous," Piper remarked, bobbing her head dramatically.

"I'm going to bed," I said, my heart sunken. "Clean up after you're done, please." I refused to look at their faces, sure they were giving me strange looks. Instead, I marched to my room and dropped into my bed, the night's events upsetting me more than I cared to admit. I buried my head in my pillow, falling asleep to the sound of my ceiling fan overhead.

* * *

"Scoot over."

"You scoot."

"You've got over half the desk."

"I've got well over half the work!"

Percy grunted in disagreement. "This would work so much better if one of us were left handed."

"Start practicing," I remarked, earning me a sarcastic smile in response. Sighing, I went back to my work.

I'd spent my entire workday on Thursday with Malcolm, my mentor, so it hadn't been until Friday that Percy and I had been forced to share the office. Not only that, but I wasn't going to be able to install my desk until the next week, which meant that much to Percy's dismay, I'd taken over his desk. After an hour of arguing, shoving, and cleaning, we'd fallen into a comfortable position. That was until the hour hand on the clock neared 5 and he became restless.

"I miss my bed," I heard Percy mumble after a moment of peaceful working. I looked up at him.

"Are you referring to the desk?" I inquired, knowing the answer. Percy nodded shamelessly, reaching for his cup of water.

"S'not like they'd let me install an _actual_ bed," he expanded, placing his cup down. "Though I could probably hide a pillow in the third drawer."

Opening said drawer, he shrugged his shoulders, closing it back once more. "Maybe a small one, but I guess it'd work."

I shook my head at his childishness, then went back to sketching blueprints. A loud ding went off, and reaching for my phone, I read a text from Luke: _Just got here. Coming up now._ Goosebumps ran up my arms, knowing full well why he wanted to come up to my floor.

After the awkwardness of the Tuesday walkout, I had tried to text him several times. For the most part, I was ignored. Finally, this morning I asked if he could give me a ride home. I hadn't expected a response, but when I received a text back, it didn't take long before I realized Luke had only accepted to judge Percy in person again.

"Everything alright, thundercat?" Percy asked, noticing how deep in thought I'd become. I visibly cringed at the nickname, having stemmed from his attempt of calling me 'thundercloud eyes' yesterday and him remembering a show from his childhood.

"I don't even like cats," I pointed out. "And yes, everything is fine. It's just that we'll be having a guest in a minute or so."

"Harrison Ford?" he blurted. I eyed him with disappointment, and he shrugged. "Thought I'd guess. A man can hope."

"It's Luke Castellan," I explained, and I saw Percy tense up.

"The guy that hates me?" he asked, straightening his back.

"He doesn't hate you," I argued. "You're just new."

"Then someone doesn't remember proper etiquette."

"Just be nice," I instructed. "Give a good second impression, and I'm sure the hostility will disappear."

"Sounds like a Vietnam tactic," Percy commented. He shrunk from my gaze, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. I had come to see the this as a personal tick, something that he did when he became nervous. "I will try to be on my best behavior," he conceded.

Movement from the door windows caught my eye, and soon enough Luke swung open the doors.

"Hey," was all he said, closing the doors behind and standing tall. I could tell he wasn't sure where to sit or what to do, but to the common observer, he beamed confidence.

"You can pull up one of the chairs from over there," I suggested, pointing to the four rolling chairs against the wall. He eyed me curiously, looking back and forth between myself and Percy, who had his head down as he pretended to be writing.

As Luke went across the room, I slapped Percy. "I said to be nice, not to ignore him," I scolded quietly, keeping Luke in the corner of my eye.

Percy sighed heavily. "I just thought it'd be less awkward, but whatever you desire, your majesty." He dropped his pen, picking up his papers and shuffling them professionally.

"Luke, good to see you!" Percy's voice boomed like a speaker. From how his eyes widened, I knew he hadn't meant to speak so loudly. I turned away from Luke and quickly bit my finger, desperate to stop the laugh that had almost burst free.

"Ditto, Jackson," Luke said, placing the chair down opposite of me. Percy sat beside me, and the way we were positioned, it made a triangle. "What're the odds of Annabeth taking a job as your babysitter?"

 _Dammit Luke,_ I thought to myself, internally facepalming at his not-so-subtle dig. Percy appeared unfazed, instead laughing at the comment.

"Thank God for that," he said, his sea-green eyes sparkling. "Can't imagine sharing a desk with a retirement home escapee in her place. Though how my dad roped her in, I haven't a clue."

I remained quiet, concealing the fact that I had chosen to take the job. Truthfully, the decision still boggled me. It seemed so unlike myself. Regardless, no one needed to know that I'd enthusiastically chosen to be Percy's so-called babysitter.

"Why are you a sharing a desk, exactly?" Luke asked. "Can't afford to give new hires proper equipment?"

"We're running low on budget," Percy answered, and I immediately looked at him, curious as to what he meant. "Spent so much on the 'Elephants in Space' venture that we could hardly afford to hire her. Speaking of which, want any ivory jewelry?"

I kicked him under the table, and he played off the impact as if he'd dropped a pen. As he bent down, Luke glanced at me, motioning toward him like he was an idiot. I wanted to contest, but Percy had risen once more.

"So, Luke," he said, pretending to put a pen in his jacket pocket. "What do you do?"

I raised my eyebrows to show my approval of the question. It held two possible responses; Luke could answer as a student or a worker. Since many college kids were embarrassed that they didn't have jobs, the double meaning was clever. Of course, Percy probably hadn't realized this and had said it simply because of its plainness.

"Marketing major," Luke answered. "And I work for my dad on the occasional weekend. Hate the job, but it pays well."

Silence ensued, and it took me moment to realize Percy had zoned out. Dropping my hand onto the table noticeably, I saw his eyes break from their daydreaming glaze.

"Interesting," he said blandly. "I assume you aren't going to run the family business post-graduation?"

"Is this an interview?" Luke asked, and I internally screamed at his rudeness.

Percy tilted his head curiously, similarly surprised by the outburst. "No. If it were, I'd ask for your social security number. Feel free to give it, though."

The joke didn't land, instead thickening the awkward tension that had enveloped the room. We still had ten minutes until five o'clock, and desperate for a break, I turned to Luke.

"Do you mind waiting in the lobby?" I asked innocently, trying to garner a persuasive tone. Rooming with Piper for several years, I hoped some of her magic voice had worn off in me. "There are a couple things I need to work with Percy on, and we can't have guests around while we do so. Company policy."

Luke had jumped out of the seat before I finished speaking. "I'll be waiting," he said before giving me a final grin and walking out.

"Oh, thank JESUS!" Percy exclaimed once the doors were shut, his stature drooping as he relaxed. "The way things were going, I was thinking about signing a one-day contract as a window cleaner."

"It wasn't _that_ bad," I argued half-heartedly. I still had hope that Percy hadn't noticed Luke's subtle disrespect. That hope diminished when Percy eyed me doubtfully.

"A damn cyclops would've treated me better," he remarked. "I've had more respectful conversations with horses."

"If its one-sided, it's not a conversation," I pointed out, and he stuck his tongue out at me. "And to be fair, you weren't subtle about your discomfort."

"Are you telling me I was the rude one?" Percy asked. His eyes glossed over, and the puppy dog gleam melted my heart.

"No, you weren't," I sighed. "I don't know what happened. He's just so stubborn."

Percy studied me for moment before his eyes softened. "I didn't mean to stress you out, Annabeth. I just don't know what to do."

His words were genuine, and when we made eye contact, neither of us broke from it. For some reason, it felt like I could suddenly see through his projected joyous mask. His sea green eyes were swirling in contemplation, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about.

"So, do you need rides every day?" Percy asked, lowering his eyes. I nodded, to which he continued. "Might I ask why?"

"It's kind of hard to explain," I said, scratching my arm uncomfortably. "Personal thing, if you will." Suddenly I could feel my heart beating, and the room had become blisteringly hot.

Percy noticed my reaction. "You don't need to tell me anything," he said calmly. "I was just curious." Judging by his pursed lips, I knew he wanted to say something else. I motioned with my hands to tell him to speak, and eventually his thoughts were verbalized. "I'd be willing to give you rides home in the future. In case you can't get a ride or if it would be easier on Thalia or Luke."

The thought of riding in a car with Percy Jackson amused me. "I might take you up on the offer," I said warmly.

The clock reached five, and as the bell rang from outside the room, we both rose to our feet. I held out my hand to him, to which he raised an eyebrow.

"Have a lovely weekend, Mr. Jackson," I said professionally, to which he laughed and shook my hand. As we shook, I sobered. "And Percy, I don't mean to pry, but you should really talk to your dad."

I must've blindsided him, because he took a step back. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"You can't ignore him forever."

"Never know if I don't try."

I tilted my head questionably, and Percy sighed. "I will," he resigned. "Maybe. One day. Soon. Or not. But I will."

I accepted the answer. "Good. I'll see you on Monday, Seaweed Brain."

When the doors shut behind me, I made a beeline for the elevator, apathetic as to whether or not Luke caught up with me. Of course, he did, stopping the elevator a second before the doors closed.

"Everything alright?" he asked, standing beside me.

"Do you just like being a dick?" I exclaimed. "Because you can be very good at it sometimes." I kept my tone calm, but Luke's eyes had widened nonetheless.

"It's not my fault Jackson is an asshole," he defended. I threw my hands into the air in protest.

"How was he an asshole?" I exasperated, truly ignorant of the answer.

"He treated me like an employee," Luke snarled. "Asking me those asinine questions."

"They're called icebreakers, you dolt," I explained harshly. "You were a complete douche bag."

Luke wanted to argue, but I glared daggers to silence him.

By the time he dropped me off at my apartment, the awkwardness between us had worn off, as we had resumed our usual joking around and teasing each other. But after he drove off, and I realized I was at the apartment alone, silence gifted me one clear thought; Luke was wrong.


End file.
